


Little Things

by kaydeefalls



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-08-24
Updated: 2002-08-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 04:44:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaydeefalls/pseuds/kaydeefalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two pretty boys having sex -- what could go wrong? Well...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Things

**Author's Note:**

> I'm freely messing around with NZ living arrangements here. Let's assume that our boys each have their own house, shall we? Thank yous to Tash for preliminary read-over and Gabby (as always) for the wonderful beta.

**1\. Ending**

I notice the little things first.

Orli and I used to be almost shy about sex. We would always ask first. Even in moments of passion, one of us would pause, pull back, ask "Is this all right with you?" with ragged breath. It always was, of course, but the question was still asked.

We never ask anymore.

Maybe it should thrill me that the question has become unnecessary. But I wonder, instead. Why don't we bother asking? Why do we just assume it will be all right?

If that was the only difference, I would shrug it off. But there are other small changes.

We always fuck from behind, now. In the early days of our relationship, we experimented, trying out a wide variety of different positions. "I want to be able to see your eyes, Sblomie," Orli said once.

Orli hasn't seen my eyes during sex in weeks.

And another thing. We don't really kiss anymore. Not that we've ever been too demonstrative in public, but now we rarely even give each other pecks on the cheek. And at night, in bed, our lips never meet. We fuck. We don't kiss. And when did "making love" turn into "fucking," even in my own mind?

Orli has stopped shouting my name when he comes, too.

The little things are starting to add up, and I don't like it.

*

This morning, for some bizarre reason, Orli's call is earlier than mine. I lie in bed, listening to him putter around in the bathroom. He comes back into my bedroom and gets dressed while I watch lazily. I admire the little things -- the tight jeans fitting snugly over his fine arse, the way his stomach muscles tighten and relax as he pulls on a hideous green shirt, his long fingers deftly buttoning that shirt.

On impulse, I jump out of bed and kiss him neatly on the lips.

He gives me an odd look. "What was that for?"

I shrug. "Do I need a reason?"

Orli smiles bemusedly, shaking his head. "I need to finish dressing and get out of here." He looks pointedly at my lack of clothing.

It's never occurred to me to feel embarrassed about being naked in front of him before. I shift uncomfortably, then retreat to the bed.

He pulls on his shoes. "Ta," he calls, and breezes out of my room. A few moments later, I hear the front door slam shut.

I used to kiss him every morning before leaving the house. Has he forgotten that?

*

After filming ends for the day, we hobbits and Orli all go to our favorite Wellington pub. Come to think of it, we do this practically every day. Except for once a week, the night before our day off, when we usually seek out either a hot new pub or a club of some sort. But that's beside the point. Tomorrow is filming, so it's back to the usual spot tonight.

It's a nice, homey sort of place. It has big, comfortable booths which could easily seat the whole Fellowship -- and do, on occasion. There's always some kind of bland music playing in the background, but no dance floor or anything, and anyway we're not here for the music. We're here for the alcohol, which they serve in remarkable quantities for remarkably low prices.

Orli and I are sitting next to each other, but there's an awkward distance between us. It's my fault. I tried bringing up the morning kiss business earlier, and he just brushed me off, which was bloody irritating of him. So I said something appropriately rude in response. It's been going downhill from there.

Our hands brush accidentally, and we both jerk away from the contact. Billy and Sean are busy debating the merits of Budweiser vs. Guinness, but Elijah notices. He frowns thoughtfully.

"What?" I demand crossly.

Lij looks up at my face, favoring me with the blue intensity of his eyes. "Something wrong?"

I'm tempted to say exactly what's wrong, but then realize how dumb it would sound. "No," Orli says shortly, while I'm still pondering it.

Lij cocks his head, considering. "Wanna talk about it?"

"No!" we both say in unison. Too loudly. Billy and Sean stare at us, distracted from their discussion. Lij's bright eyes flick from me to Orli, and I can see the curiosity gleaming in them.

"It's nothing," Orli mutters, at the same time as I mumble "It's stupid."

My three fellow hobbits exchange glances.

Sean stands slowly. "It's getting late," he says. "I want to get home before Ally goes to bed." He smiles fondly, the picture of a doting father.

"I'll catch a ride with you," Billy says quickly, jumping up. "I'm on your route." Sean nods, and they slip away.

Elijah calmly sips his beer, avoiding my eyes. I silently plead with him to stay -- an attempt made difficult by the lack of eye contact.

He gets up casually. Well, fuck telepathy. "There's a movie on TV tonight that I want to catch," he says quietly. "I'll see you around, okay?"

Orli and I are left alone. It's ironic. We used to go out of our way to come up with excuses to be alone. Now I'm dreading it. My mind focuses on the little things -- the murky gold of my beer, the wood grains cutting patterns in the table, the vaguely American-sounding music drifting over the voices of other patrons.

Orli leans back, grinning awkwardly. "Guess we should've left earlier and saved them all the trouble."

"Yeah, maybe."

"Well," he says practically, "at least it showed us how fucking ridiculous we were acting."

"The fight was ridiculous," I agree cautiously. "I overreacted."

He snorts. "That's an understatement."

It's a battle to swallow back a nasty remark, and the beer isn't helping. I force a neutral tone into my voice. "I was just, ah, upset that you weren't taking me seriously."

"That's what happens when you blather on about nothing." He finishes up his beer in one gulp.

"It wasn't nothing," I insist angrily. "It--"

Orli interrupts me curtly. "Fuck, Sblomie, listen to yourself. You sound like a fucking girl." He shakes his head. "I thought I was shagging you to get away from all that crap."

I stand abruptly. "Funny," I say coldly. "I thought you were shagging me because you fancied me." My dramatic exit is ruined by the fact that I have to practically climb over him to get out of the booth.

He grabs my arm, his dark eyes glinting with anger. "You want me to kiss you? Fine, Dominic, I'll fucking kiss you." He yanks me down roughly, and more or less shoves his tongue into my mouth.

I jerk back, pushing him away. "Fuck off!"

"Yeah, fine," Orli mutters. He gets up, dropping some coins on the table, and shoves past me.

I glare at his retreating back, seething. I slam a few notes on the table to cover the rest of our tab, and stalk out of the pub.

I'm already in my car, tearing down the street, before I wonder where to go. Orli probably went to his house, and damned if I'm going to follow the bugger there. I could go home, but it's relatively early yet and the prospect of my empty house isn't very appealing.

Wellington flashes past me, illuminated by the occasional street lamp. I turn off onto a familiar road and follow it mindlessly. I'm practically in his driveway before I realize where I've come.

Elijah's house.

My feet crunch lightly in the gravel driveway. A cool breeze takes some of the angry heat out of my face. I can hear a TV blaring inside, and I hesitate before knocking. Maybe he was telling the truth about having a movie to watch. Maybe he doesn't want company.

I rap on the front door, harder than I mean to. The sound of the telly stops abruptly. I suddenly feel very foolish. I should've just gone home. What do I expect Lij to do, anyway? Express his sympathy that Orli and I fought? I'm a complete prat.

Lij pulls the door open. His small frown of irritation melts away when he sees me. "Dom?"

I tug at my ear, embarrassed. "Can I come in?" He nods wordlessly, and I push past him, ignoring the question in his wide eyes.

He shuts the door quietly, then turns back to face me. "What happened?"

I shrug, staring at the floor. "Nothing really. I don't know. Orli and I had a fight." Elijah has a rather nice floor, I decide. Smooth wood, even brown tones. A comfortable sort of floor, the kind that works just as well without a rug. You could walk across it in wet shoes without making much of a mess, and it would feel pleasant under bare feet.

"You want to talk about it yet?" Lij asks softly.

If I wanted to talk, I wouldn't be examining your floor in such detail, you stupid wanker. "Not really."

"Okay," he says. We just stand there silently for a minute. He touches my arm lightly, startling me into meeting his eyes. "Anything I can do to help?"

This is why I came to Elijah, wasn't it? Because even though he's normally a high-strung ball of nervous energy, he can be the most caring person in the world when you need a friend.

I smile crookedly at him. "I could use a beer, actually."

He laughs, and the serious expression in his eyes vanishes. "No problem." He leads me to the kitchen, and grabs two bottles out of the fridge. "Here." He passes one to me, and pops the other one open for himself.

"Anything good on the telly?" I ask, wandering into the living room.

Lij follows me. "Not much. I had a soccer -- er, football game on before you came in."

I mentally remind myself to collect ten quid from Billy. I once bet him that I could get Elijah hooked on football before filming ended. Seems like I won.

I plop down on the couch. "Sounds good to me."

He smiles and joins me, turning the TV on. We watch the match in companionable silence, leaning against each other on the couch and occasionally taking swigs of beer.

Yeah, I think comfortably, as Orli and the rest of the world slowly melt away. This is what I wanted.

*

It isn't the last time I'll end up at Elijah's house after a fight with Orli. Sure, the next day my boyfriend is all tender apologies, but I'm not daft enough to think that's the end of it. And even mind-blowingly good sex doesn't solve everything.

As time passes, part of the problem is the shooting schedule. The hobbits have been split up for a few weeks now, and it's starting to take its toll on me. It's hard to be away from them all day every day. It was bad enough when Elijah and Sean started filming Emyn Muil and Mordor, but now I've been separated from Billy, too. And the shoots have gotten longer, often leaving us too exhausted to visit the pub.

All this means that I value my time with the other hobbits more, and I'm beginning to resent the fact that Orli pulls me away from them.

"Am I that boring?" Orli demands, glaring at me. We just opened a bottle of wine, sitting at my kitchen table, but I'm having trouble listening to what he's been saying.

"No," I reply. He just looks at me, tapping his finger on the rim of his glass. I smile sheepishly. "I'm sorry. It's just that I haven't seen Lij and Billy in a few days, and I'm wondering how they're doing. They've got some rough shoots, if the call sheets are any indication."

"So do I," he says bluntly. "You think Helm's Deep is my idea of fun?"

I shrug. "Well, your nighttime shooting ended, anyway. You're not doing battle sequences anymore, are you?"

"All Legolas HAS are battle sequences." His voice is bitter. "Archery. That's all I'm good for. They could've cast a professional fucking archer with no drama school credits, and no one would know the difference. Save the time it took to train me, too."

I wince. Orli only indulges in self-pity when he's in a really foul mood. "Hey, this is going to be your big break, and you know it."

He snorts derisively in response.

"Come on," I say with a smile, taking his hand, trying to work him into a better mood, "you know that these films are going to be huge successes. And you stand out. You're amazing as Legolas. You're going to become a celebrity overnight." He raises an eyebrow, but I can see the beginnings of a smile. "It happens," I insist. "Lij was telling me the other day--"

And his face darkens. He pulls his hand away and scowls into his wine. "And we're back to Lij again, aren't we? Always something about Elijah."

"That's not fair--"

"No, you're right, occasionally you put in a good word for Billy or Sean, too."

I cross my arms, exasperated. "They're my fucking mates, Orli! Yours, too."

"You'd rather be with them than with me," he accuses. "Admit it. You wish we were tossing back a few pints with Doodle and Bill right now."

"Don't be ridiculous," I snap, rejecting the truth in his words. "Who's acting like the girl this time?"

We're both on our feet now, wine forgotten. "Who's the one who goes crying to Elijah every time we have an argument?"

My ears burn. "I don't cry and you bloody well know it!"

"Oh, sorry," Orli sneers. "Mr. Wood comforts you in other ways, does he? Tell me, does he live up to the name?"

I shove him. Hard.

He stumbles backward, slamming into a wall. "Touch me again and I'll fucking kill you," he hisses, once he's regained his balance. He rubs the base of his neck, wincing.

"Oh, fuck," I say guiltily. "Your back. I completely forgot. I'm sorry, Orli..." I take a step toward him, reaching out a hand, but he recoils from my touch.

"I said don't touch me," he mutters. "I'm getting the hell out of here."

He walks out, a little stiffly, refusing to even look at me.

I slump back into my chair, resisting the urge to run after him. And I will not go crying to Lij. I will not.

After finishing the bottle of wine, I make a conscious decision to forget that resolve. I don't bother with a car, but instead half-walk, half-jog the distance to Lij's house. The cool air dries the few tears that leak out of my eyes, and the rhythmic pounding of my feet on the pavement soothes me. A little.

Elijah takes longer than usual to answer the door. When he does, he's wearing just boxers and an overlarge T-shirt, and his hair is sticking out every which way.

"I'm sorry," I say. "Did I wake you?"

He runs a hand through his tousled hair, looking exhausted. "Not really. It's all right."

"Sorry," I say again. "What time is it?"

He glances at his wristwatch. "Not very late," he admits. "But I was really drained from filming, and I figured I'd go to bed early."

"Look, I shouldn't -- I can go." I start backing up guiltily, but I forget about the stairs leading up to his door and have to grab the handrail to keep from falling.

He reaches out and pulls me inside. "Are you drunk?" he asks, frowning a little. "Where's your car?"

I lean against the wall as he closes the door. "Not drunk enough, and I walked."

"You walked?" he asks incredulously. "Jesus, you ARE drunk."

I shrug. He's hardly one to talk about getting pissed, the bloody lightweight. "It's not that far."

"At this time of night?" He shakes his head, sighing. "All right, so what happened?"

"I pushed him into a wall," I mutter. "I shouldn't have. It was my fault. I overreacted."

He takes my hand and leads me to the couch. "Overreacted to what?" he asks curiously, sitting and pulling me down beside him.

I rub my ear, hoping that Lij is too tired to notice my blush. "I'd rather not say."

He looks at my face searchingly, then sighs. "Anything I can do to help?"

"I don't know. No." I stare at the floor. It looks the same as it always does. "I should stop coming here after every stupid little row. You must think I'm such a child."

The ghost of a smile passes over his lips. "Hey, I'm the little kid here, remember?"

I don't respond and he leans back into the cushions, little lines of tension on his face easing slightly. His voice sounds hoarser than usual, and there's a small frown in his forehead that I don't remember seeing before. I notice his shoulders relaxing a little, sinking into the couch, and I feel guilty again. He looks completely knackered.

"Rough day?" I ask quietly.

Elijah turns his head to look at me, forcing a smile. "Just draining. Mordor. I don't mind physically demanding scenes -- they leave you exhausted in a healthy kind of way, y'know?" I nod. "But emotionally demanding ones, take after take, for eight or nine hours straight... I don't know. I just feel a little shell-shocked, I guess." He examines a fingernail, then decides against it. His hand flops back onto the couch.

"I'm sorry," I murmur. "I shouldn't have come."

His smile doesn't look so forced this time. "It's okay." He gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I don't mind."

I smile back. We sit quietly for a few long minutes. Lij is barely staying awake, and now that I'm just sitting here, I realize that I'm pretty tired, too.

Eventually, Elijah stands up. "You can crash here tonight," he says softly. "I'll find you a blanket."

The aftereffects of the wine and the drain of my fight with Orli are making it increasingly difficult for me to keep my eyes open. I nod agreeably, kicking off my shoes and lying full-length on the couch.

I'm practically asleep by the time he returns with the blanket. "Thanks," I mumble.

"You're welcome." He turns to go.

"Lij?"

He looks back over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Y'know I love you, right?"

Lij just smiles. "Go to sleep," he advises. "Sean picks us up at 4:30."

*

The very next evening, Orli pops over to pick up his things. We both say nasty things we don't really mean, and when I look at his face, I wonder what happened to the funny, charming boy I loved. As soon as his car pulls away, I'm in my own car, making a beeline to Elijah's place.

The house is dark, and after five minutes of waiting in the chilly night air, it's obvious that he's not home. I consider looking for him at the pub -- but I know Orli well enough to realize that he would go straight to that pub to get roaring drunk, and I have no desire to bump into him by accident while looking for Lij.

Back at home, alone, I drink myself into a stupor. I think about Orli's finely toned body, his warm brown eyes, his shyest smile and his widest grin. Then I remember the cold look in those chocolate eyes, the accusing glares and angry snubs. I never once told him I loved him. I'd thought it a few times, but the words never came out. Just as well, I suppose.

I don't shed a single tear.

*

 **2\. Damage**

I'm nursing the hangover from hell in makeup the next morning. It's a pity, because for once all four hobbits are here together, and I'm too miserable to care.

Elijah gives me a small smile when I walk in, and I acknowledge him with something between a hello and a moan. He turns back to Sean, chattering a mile a minute. Normally I might listen in, amused, but right now I can't focus on anything he's saying.

Billy claps me on the back as I sit down, and sparks go off in my head. I rub my temples, groaning. He smiles sympathetically. "One of those nights?"

"Wicked," I mumble.

He passes me a couple of aspirin, and I swallow them dry. One of the makeup girls, Natasha, starts prepping my ears for the prosthetics. "Please don't yank me around too much," I plead when she shifts my head a fraction of a centimeter. "I'll be eternally grateful, I swear."

She rolls her eyes. "Aren't I usually the one telling YOU to stop moving?"

My brain is too foggy to come up with an appropriately sarcastic remark.

Eventually, the aspirin start kicking in. "Dom?" Billy says quietly.

"Mmhmm?" I turn my head to look at him. Natasha slaps my shoulder, muttering under her breath.

Billy is staring straight ahead. "Is something wrong with you and Orli?"

I snort. "You sure are the perceptive one, Boyd."

He glances over at me. "It's just that, ah... you know Sean picks Lij up most mornings?" I nod. I'm not sure where this is going. "Well, today he picked him up from Orli's house. Now, this doesn't necessarily mean anything," he adds hastily. "I mean, yesterday morning you were at Lijah's, and you've sworn to me that nothing happened."

"Nothing happened," I repeat dully. "Lij spent the night with Orli?"

Billy sighs. "At Orli's house, aye. Not necessarily with Orli."

I look over at Elijah. He's still talking to Sean, but he must feel my eyes on him, because he turns and glances at me. His face looks frozen for a moment, then he offers me a weak grin and goes back to Sean.

"Not necessarily," I mutter. "Right."

Billy leans back in his chair, squeezing his eyes shut. "I shouldn't have said anything."

Natasha starts applying my wig. "You mean Elijah is gay, too?" she jokes quietly. "Ah, fuck!"

Billy opens his eyes and grins winningly up at her. "You still have me, Tash me love."

She swats him, fighting a smile. "You're too old for me."

He puts on his wounded puppy face, and even I have to laugh.

*

Elijah and Sean are scheduled to leave for Whakapapa National Park at one o'clock. More Mordor, I gather. They tend to go off for three or four day stretches at a time. Which means that I have less than fifteen minutes to find Lij, or I won't be able to talk to him until next week.

So if I were the little bugger, where the fuck would I be?

Hiding from me, probably. Too bad.

Oddly enough, it's the wind that gives him away. He's crouched down behind the makeup trailer, and I would've missed him entirely if it weren't for the faint-yet-unmistakable scent of those clove cigarettes.

"Elijah."

He stands, sighs, takes a long drag on the cigarette. Then he drops the fag and steps on it. He isn't wearing the prosthetic feet, I notice. I guess Peter figured they'd just get in the way in the already-cramped helicopter. Otherwise, Lij is in full Mordor-Frodo garb -- and sneakers. It looks very weird.

"What?" he mutters, and his voice is a little hoarse from the smoke. The ground around him is littered with cigarette butts -- he's obviously been chain-smoking here for a while.

I study his face. He looks like shit, and not all of that is due to the grisly Mordor makeup. Well, that's his problem. We don't have time for sympathy or subtlety. "Did you shag Orli last night?" I demand.

Lij shifts his pack of fags from hand to hand, nervously. "Yes." At least he has the decency to be honest about it.

I briefly contemplate giving him a black eye -- it would go splendidly with his near-death-Ringbearer look -- but decide that a fight with the backstabbing little shit wouldn't be worth mussing my lovely Knight of the Mark costume. "Why?" I ask instead, failing to keep the hurt out of my voice.

He starts to pull another cigarette out of the pack, then glances at me and changes his mind. Instead, he gnaws on a thumbnail. "He asked," he mumbles around the nail.

I cross my arms to keep myself from giving him that black eye he seems to be asking for. Or broken nose, but Peter might notice that. "Excuse me?"

Elijah sighs and gives up on the thumbnail. "I was at the pub," he says wearily. "I'd already had a few too many beers. And Orli came in, and slid in across from me in the booth. He was in a shitty mood, but he wasn't talking. We just kept ordering more drinks." Lij starts fiddling around with his wig, twisting the false curls around his finger like a girl. "Eventually he told me that you two... that it was over. I asked if there was anything I could do to help, and he said, yeah, there was." He lets go of the wig, stares at the ground.

I try to keep my voice neutral. "So it was just a sort of comfort thing."

"Yeah," he says, "something like that."

I explode. "Well, fuck, Lij, aren't you just the master of comfort! Feeling a bit down, just go to Elijah, he'll make you feel all better! 'Course, some of us just ask for a beer or two, but if a shag is your fancy, he's ready and willing to provide!"

Elijah closes his eyes. He presses his lips together tightly, weathering the storm. I want to grab his shoulders and shake him, but I don't trust myself right now, and if I take a step closer to him my fists might independently decide to do the talking for me.

"Tell me, Elijah," I snarl. "You're so eager to comfort everyone, who do you go to when YOU need a bit of comfort?"

His eyes snap open. I expect to see fury there, hatred maybe, something for me to fight. But there's only hurt and blueness, and I have to struggle to hold on to my anger. "Maybe," he says quietly, "just maybe, Orli was as much of a comfort to me as I was to him. Maybe I didn't give a rat's ass about his own feelings when he asked me to fuck him." His voice drops so that I can barely hear him. "Maybe I did it because I was hoping he would taste like you."

The silence that stretches between us is almost palpable. I can't bring myself to look at him, so I stare at little things instead -- the collection of cigarette butts scattered around his feet, the peeling white paint on the makeup trailer, his hands in their unnatural stillness.

"I'm sorry," he finally mutters, jamming his hands into the shallow pockets of his trousers. "Gotta go catch my ride out." He shoves past me as he goes, and the pack of cigarettes falls to the ground. Elijah doesn't notice, and trudges off.

I stare at the pack for a long moment, while visions of Lij and Orli in bed together dance through my head. They're both smokers -- I wonder if they shared one of these fags after fucking.

I pick up the pack and hurl it into the woods as hard as I can.

*

All right, now where's that fucking elf?!

After Elijah left, yesterday afternoon, I had to dash off to filming. My scenes were all with Miranda Otto, with no Orli in sight. And by the time I got out of makeup at the end of the day, he had vanished. Rung his house, no answer. Tried the pub, he wasn't there. My conclusion: Orlando Bloom is hiding from me.

I can't say I blame him, given the choice words (and theoretical violence) I have in mind.

Well, we're all together today. Merry, Pippin, Aragorn, Gandalf, Gimli, and the Prince of Mirkwood himself. He can't avoid me now.

There's still a good ten or fifteen minutes before Peter will be ready to start. I dodge my way around a mess of cameramen, production assistants, and equipment before I finally locate my fellow actors.

Some of them, anyway.

John Rhys-Davies is sitting comfortably in a folding chair, reading his script pages for the day. He absently scratches at his bearded cheek -- his makeup is probably bothering him, poor bloke.

I tap him on the shoulder. "John?"

He looks up at me, peering over the tops of his glasses. "Good morning, young hobbit," he booms. John never talks. He bellows. Even when he isn't speaking loudly, he gives off the impression that he's making some sort of sweeping pronouncement. "And what can I do for you?"

"Have you seen Orli?"

John gestures vaguely in the direction of a trailer. "He might be over there. It's where I saw the lad last. But that was some time ago."

In other words, he's been poring over the script so carefully that he has completely lost track of time. I envy his professionalism. Someday, the little voice in the back of my mind whispers. Someday I'll be that experienced.

I'm tempted to ask what Orli was doing when John saw him last. Is Orli fucking him, too?

No. That would be rude. "Thanks," I say instead, and jog off toward the trailer. Except that I'm wearing the Feet, so it isn't so much a jog as a hurried stumble.

Maybe John would take it as a compliment, I muse distractedly as I approach the trailer. That I believe him still capable of getting it up at his age....

Right, thinking is a bad thing.

Orli IS in the trailer. He's having his wig adjusted. Poncy elves.

I lean lazily against the doorway, waiting for him to notice me. He doesn't. One of the makeup girls does, though. She glances up from her magazine. "Can we help you with something, Dominic?"

I watch Orli stiffen. "No thanks, Natasha," I drawl, still eying my former boyfriend. "Just waiting to have a word with Mr. Bloom, here."

She shrugs and goes back to the latest issue of 'Elle.' "Suit yourself."

Orli doesn't turn around. "I have nothing to say to you, Dominic."

"S'okay," I reply agreeably. "'Cause I've got plenty of things to say to you."

The two girls working on his wig release him. He knows that the only way out of this trailer is through me. Reluctantly, he takes a step toward me. "Not in here," he mutters.

"Why not?" I demand. "Don't worry, these nice birds have overheard far worse around us. They'll keep their mouths shut."

The nice birds glare at me. One of them -- Bridget -- gives me a look clearly indicating that if I value my manhood, I'll never refer to her as a 'bird' again. Her friend, whose name I don't know, seems to be suggesting that I have no manhood to speak of. Natasha doesn't bother looking up from her magazine; she just gives me the finger.

I grin at them. Orli winces. He grabs my arm and pulls me outside.

"Get your fucking hands off me," I tell him, as pleasantly as possible.

He releases me quickly and backs away. I want to laugh. Does he actually think I'd start a fistfight here, in front of the entire crew, five minutes before filming?

"So talk," he says.

"You fucked Elijah."

He rubs his arms. It's a chilly morning. "Is that a statement or a question?"

"Okay, WHY did you fuck Elijah?"

"So you're assuming that I did."

Maybe he had the right idea when he put distance between us. He'd look even more smashing with a black eye than Lij would. "I already know you did, you fuck."

Orli shrugs. "Well, that makes the two of us, then."

I roll my eyes. "Other people know, arsehole."

"Not know," he says testily. "That makes two of us who've slept with Doodle."

My jaw drops. "I never shagged him."

He snorts. "Yeah, right. We all know you spent the night together. D'you expect me to believe that you slept alone on the couch or sommat?"

"I did," I insist angrily. "Nothing happened, Bloom."

"At least I had the decency to call it off with you before I started fooling around," he continues, ignoring me.

"I never fucked Elijah!" I yell. I notice a few heads turning among the nearby techies, and lower my voice. "Did you ever bother asking him if I'd 'fooled around' with him?"

He smirks. "We were otherwise occupied, sorry. He's a good wank, isn't he?"

Protesting is obviously both useless and somewhat humiliating. I clamp my mouth shut, glaring daggers at him.

"Now you know how it feels," Orli continues relentlessly.

I can't stop myself. "How what feels?"

"How it feels when someone you love starts fucking someone else."

I refuse to give him this satisfaction. "When did I ever say I loved you?" I ask sharply.

I expected that to sting him, but he just smiles mirthlessly. "When did I ever say I was the one you love?" I gape at him. "You wouldn't care if I were screwing around with anyone else," he says grimly. "You're only angry because I went to Elijah. I stole your happy little comfort source, didn't I? How'd you like it when you dashed over to his place and found that he wasn't there?"

I turn away, fuming silently. I can see the rest of the cast assembling around Peter, and stalk off toward them.

Orli matches my stride. "For what it's worth," he adds quietly, "I didn't set out to nail Doodle. I only wanted to get drunk. It just sort of happened."

Billy waves for me to join him, so I push Orli away. I ignore the question in Billy's eyes, pretending to listen to Peter's long, involved direction.

All I can think about are Orli and Lij, tangled up in each other, laughing at me.

*

 **3\. Comfort**

I plop onto the couch, flipping the cap off my beer. "Thanks, Billy."

The past few days have been hellish. Fortunately, Elijah is still off shooting somewhere else -- I'm having enough trouble dealing with Orli, let alone HIM. Today was our day off, and Orli and I spent the entire time poking through each other's houses for leftover personal items. Hellish. By the time I rang Billy, I was so desperate for a friendly face that I practically begged him to let me come over to his place.

Billy joins me on the couch. "No problem." He tries to flip the cap of his beer off in the same way, and fails miserably. Instead of cartwheeling gracefully through the air, it just clinks halfheartedly to the floor. He glares at it.

"That was pathetic," I inform him.

"S'not my fault the bloody thing wouldn't fly," Billy insists. "The, ah, aerodynamic condition of the room was unfavorable to the--"

I cut him off. "You're a lousy shot."

He bristles. "As a matter of fact, I am an excellent shot. The cap, on the other hand, was an amateur."

"Don't be daft, all caps are the same. The skill, my friend, lies in the flick of the finger."

"I have a peerless finger flick," he says with dignity. He flicks my shoulder to demonstrate.

I flick him back.

He flicks my nose.

I flick him upside the head.

"Ow," he complains, rubbing the back of his head. "Violent bugger. No wonder Orli left you."

I see Orli again, rubbing the base of his neck after I shoved him into the wall. I take a long swig of beer, turning away. The ale leaves a sour taste in my mouth, and I relish it, savoring the harsh tang. It'll take several bottles of this to get me properly pissed, but by the second or third I won't really taste it anymore.

"Sorry," Billy says softly, putting a hand on my shoulder. "I didn't mean it that way. I was just joking."

I glance at him. He's got green eyes. I wonder why I never really noticed before. They're nice eyes, so different from a certain pair of rich brown or icy blue... I need to stop thinking while I'm ahead.

"Yeah," I mutter. "I know."

"You ready to talk about it yet?"

I exhale sharply. "What is this unnatural obsession with talking about everything? Christ, you sound like Elijah."

Billy shrugs, sipping at his beer. "I think it's the nature of this shoot," he says cautiously. "If we never got anything out, we'd be at each others' throats. Case in point," he adds, looking pointedly at me.

"I guess," I concede grudgingly. "But talking just leads to all sorts of problems. If I hadn't tried talking to Orli, we'd probably still be together now."

"And if Orli had tried talking to Lijah, he might not have felt the need to shag him," Billy drawls blandly.

I glare at him. "That's not funny."

"'Twasn't supposed to be," he counters. "But Orli likes to use sex as an excuse. Haven't you noticed? Didn't he call off things with his girlfriend because he was shagging you?"

"That's different," I protest. "He was serious with me. With Lij..." My voice trails off. I never even considered that Orli and Lij might really be serious. It was a cruel, vindictive, bitter thing for Orli to do to me, but on the other hand... "Ah, fuck."

Billy is waving his hand impatiently. I always knew the bloke could read my mind. "Don't be ridiculous, of course they're not in love or anything pithy like that. They'd be more open about it if they were, and Lij wouldn't be slinking around like a cat who's not too sure he liked the canary."

"Lij isn't slinking around," I argue. "He's off in Whakapapa or someplace."

He grins. "I love New Zealand names. Whakapapa. Whack. A. Papa." He starts snorting into his beer.

"I'll whack your papa," I mutter. Typical Boyd. Whenever a conversation actually turns serious, he manages to go off on some completely unrelated tangent.

And why am I irritated? I thought I didn't want to talk, anyway.

"I'll flick your papa," Billy replies.

"I'll flick you, you stupid cunt." I do.

And we're at it again, the Return of the Flick Wars. In a particularly involved combination of dodging Billy's wrist and attempting to flick his ear, I somehow manage to topple off the couch. He falls on top of me with a loud "Oof!" Luckily for Billy, he keeps a hold on his beer without spilling a drop. Unluckily for me... well, it's really more unlucky for Billy's rug than for me.

"Oops," I say guiltily, hastily standing the bottle back upright. But the damage has been done. See, if only Billy had a nice floor like Elijah has, then we'd be able to just wipe up the puddle and be done with it. No stain or anything. Ah, fuck, I just made a gratuitous Lij reference, didn't I? And that calls to mind a tangle of Orlijah in a familiar bed, laughing, laughing.... "I'm sorry, Billy," I say, firmly pushing back the images in my head.

It occurs to me that Billy hasn't gotten off of me yet. In fact, he's looking at me. Staring, rather. It's a tad unsettling. "What?" I demand, feeling very self-conscious.

He sits up, pushing himself away from me, rocking back on his heels. "We haven't done that in a while."

What the fuck? "Well, I admit I usually reserve the alcohol spilling for when I'm actually pissed, but--"

"Not that," he says, with his trademark impatient-hand-wave. "Just... messing around. Joking and fighting and whatnot."

"Oh?" I sit up too, now, raising an eyebrow at him. This is Billy. This is Pippin. We're always messing around. It's our sacred, God-given duty to mess around.

He starts peeling off the label on his beer bottle, fingernail nervously prying at the paper. He's so much like Lij, always has to be doing something with his hands. Lij fumbles with cigarettes and bites his nails, Billy talks with his hands and peels off bottle labels. I like little things like that, the nervous energy. Orli was different. Orli only used his hands to grab, or pull, or touch... And Billy's talking, and I should be listening.

"We always used to hang out together," he's saying, and his voice is low and wistful and nervous. "Then you and Orli, er, became close -- but I was happy for you, and it was still all right. But then..." He shrugs. "We're split up for filming most of the time, and you had Orli, and when anything was wrong you went to Lijah." He stares at his now-naked beer bottle, like he's wondering where the label went. Abruptly he looks up at me and pulls me into a crushing hug. "God, I've missed you, Sblomie!"

It's Orli's nickname, and I'm tempted to burst into tears right there. I don't, of course. Instead, I just bury my face in Billy's shoulder and hug him back.

I never quite realized how much I've depended on Lij for comfort. I never even considered going to Billy instead. That was stupid of me. Of course, I never thought that Elijah wouldn't be there.

Christ, I'm such a fucking idiot, and I'm not even sure why.

"S'okay, it'll be all right," Billy murmurs, rubbing my back. He probably thinks I'm crying. I'm not. Please disregard the wet spots on Billy's shoulder.

I pull away, embarrassed, swiping at my face with a sleeve. "I feel like such a girl."

He smiles. "Blokes are allowed to have feelings too, y'know."

"Tell me about it." I prod the new stain on the rug moodily. "I managed to fuck things up pretty thoroughly, didn't I?"

Billy leans back against the couch, half-closing his eyes. "Orli made his share of mistakes, too."

"Yeah."

"He used to say that his girlfriend was smothering him."

I blink at the sudden change of subject. "Er, yeah, he mentioned that a few times."

Billy's eyes really are closed now. "He was afraid he might do the same thing to you. That's why he started backing off in the first place. He thought he was giving you space. I guess you thought he was losing interest."

My mind is spinning. "When--? How do you--?"

"The first night you two really fought. At the pub." He opens his eyes and meets my gaze levelly. "You went to Lijah. He came to me."

"To you? Why?"

He shrugs. "I was your best mate. He assumed I'd understand you better than he did."

"Oh." It makes sense. Sort of. Maybe.

"I told him he was going about it all wrong," Billy continues. "Maybe he would've fixed things, but then he realized you'd gone to Elijah."

I snort bitterly. "Believe me, I already know what he thinks about me and Lij. He's daft."

He sips his beer thoughtfully. "Aye, perhaps, but he may have had reason to panic like he did. He knows how Lijah feels about you."

"How Lijah feels about me?" I was obviously a parrot in a past life.

Billy sighs. "Dom, Elijah has fancied you since practically day one of hobbit training, and almost everyone knows except you."

"Day one was ten months ago."

"I know."

Elijah. High-strung geekboy Elijah. Lightweight drinker Elijah. Comfort buddy Elijah.

 _Maybe I did it because I was hoping he would taste like you._

I haven't let myself think about those words. Now I'm thinking. I'm thinking I need something stronger than beer.

"Why didn't he ever say anything?" I finally croak out.

Judging by the expression on Billy's face, I've just graduated to first rate idiot. "Well, for one, he didn't think you were into blokes. None of us did, actually, until hobbitsnorli suddenly became hobbits and Domlando. And once you and Orli were... well, what was Lij supposed to do, tap you on the shoulder and say, 'hey, by the way, you should be shagging me, not him,' or something?" His voice drips sarcasm.

"Uh, yeah, maybe not." I tug at my ear. "Just as well, I guess. I mean, he's a great kid and all, but I don't, you know, fancy him. In that way. You know."

Billy raises an eyebrow. "Sure," he says, in a tone that suggests the opposite.

I gulp down the little beer remaining in my bottle.

 _Lij?_

Yeah?

Y'know I love you, right?

I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, rubbing my temples. I definitely fucked up somewhere, but now I'm not sure where or how.

"So Orli panicked," Billy says softly. It takes me a second to realize what he's talking about. "You went to Elijah, and Orli didn't think Lij would pass up the opportunity to offer you a different sort of comfort. Nothing happened, I know, you've told me a thousand times. But Orli got scared that something might. So he changed the give-Dom-space plan into a keep-Dom-close one." He smiles wryly. "Too late, I guess. The more he tried to reel you in, the more he pushed you away. Am I right?"

I mutter something affirmative. Billy looks satisfied.

 _When did I ever say I loved you?_

When did I ever say I was the one you love?

"It hurts," I say quietly. "Even though everything was already falling apart, I didn't think it could hurt this much."

"I'm sorry." Billy's voice is gentler than I've ever heard it. "Anything I can do to help?"

My eyes snap open, and I stare at him.

I've been asked that before. And that was where I fucked up.

Time feels temporarily frozen. I take in the little things -- the sound of my heart beating too quickly, the faint smell of spilt beer coming from the rug, Billy's nice green eyes. Not brown. Not blue. Green.

And I say what I never thought to say to Lij, what I should've said, what Orli did say.

"Yes."

I lean in carefully and kiss him.

He breaks it off, pulling back. Green eyes study my face. "Are you sure about this?"

"I want to stop thinking." I don't add that I'd like to replace thoughts of Orli and Lij tangled up in each other with a few images of my own. "Is that okay with you?"

"Aye. It is."

And we're kissing again, and it just feels so damn good to be kissing someone. Weird, too -- Billy kisses very differently than Orli, and for some reason it's never occurred to me that different guys would taste different. I've been with a number of girls, mind, but Orli was the first bloke I'd ever really fooled around with.

Fooling around, messing around... I wonder if Merry and Pippin ever messed around quite like this.

Kisses are no longer reserved for lips, and that's nice, too, except that we're both wearing too much clothing. Well, that problem's easily solved. This is an interesting trail we're making from couch to bedroom. Orli and I have done it, too, but we didn't have to deal with things like staircases.

I discover that it is, in fact, possible to ascend a staircase backwards while simultaneously removing a pair of jeans and licking someone's neck.

I find Billy's bed without too much difficulty, and am temporarily deprived of his kisses while he rummages through a drawer. In these ten seconds, I have time to think.

'So there,' I think defiantly. Not too sure who that's directed at, but it doesn't matter anymore because Billy found the condoms.

"Who first?" he asks breathlessly.

I don't answer. I'm too busy fumbling with the little packet. Fucking foil crap.

He laughs. "Here, let me." He has significantly less trouble getting the thing open. I express my appreciation in the most practical way possible.

My mind gets a bit hazy at this point, what with the general sensory overload. Thousands of little things compete for my attention, and the only one I can focus on is -- NICE.

'So there,' I manage to think again, and a delicious sense of being avenged passes over me. Then Billy lets out an intriguing little moan, and my brain gives up entirely.

It isn't the most mind-blowingly amazing sex I've ever had, but it'll do nicely.

Gradually, I return to something resembling normal mental capacity. I'm tangled up in Billy, both of us still quivering slightly from the release. I find his mouth and kiss it, a bit sloppily. "Thanks," I murmur.

"My pleasure," he replies warmly, but he's giving me an odd look. "Did you know you were muttering to yourself?"

I'm usually pretty quiet during sex -- unlike Orli, who could wake the dead during our better nights. The loudest I get is a sort of incoherent mumbling commentary, and if I get that far, I'm probably too caught up in the moment to realize I'm saying anything at all.

"It happens," I say cautiously. "Was I?"

He props his chin up in his hand, studying my face. "Aye. D'you know whose name you were calling?"

I feel my ears go hot. "Oh, bloody hell, I'm sorry. I said 'Orli' or something, didn't I?"

"Well, I half expected you to shout his name," Billy admits. "It wouldn't have offended me. I was kinda looking forward to it, actually."

I shoot him a puzzled look.

He smiles lazily. "It's not every day I'm mistaken for a sex god like Orlando Bloom." He winks at me. "But Elijah Wood, on the other hand..."

"I said 'Elijah?'' I ask dumbly.

"Well," he hedges, grinning, "it was more like 'Lij oh God yes Lij fuck now.'"

I bury my face in the pillow.

Billy rubs my back, kissing my neck. "S'okay," he murmurs. "Truth be told, I wasn't thinking of you the whole time, either. But I thought you didn't fancy him."

"I don't," I say automatically, lifting my head to meet his eyes. "Who were you thinking of?"

He smiles to himself. "Maybe some other time."

"C'mon," I wheedle. "It's only fair."

"No."

I sit up, exasperated. "Boyd, you're my best mate and I just fucked you, I think I'm entitled to know who you'd rather have been shagging just now!"

Billy laughs now, pulling me back down. "Don't be daft, Dommie lad," he teases, running a hand down my chest. "I can't think of a better fuckmate." His voice turns more serious. "You make up with Orli and Lijah, and then I'll tell you."

I don't respond, and he sighs, wrapping his arms around me. Eventually, we both drop off.

*

It's still dark when I wake up. Billy only has one arm slung around me now, and he's snoring lightly. I squint blearily at the bedside clock. 3:00 AM.

This is a new situation for me. What's the etiquette after shagging your best friend for comfort? Specifically, do I go back to sleep now, or leave quietly before he wakes up?

The question resolves itself easily, once I alter it to "Will I be ready to talk about this with him when we get up at 5 AM?"

I am not a morning person. I will not be ready to face Billy until I've showered, dressed, and had several cups of coffee.

It's simple enough to slip out of bed. Billy sleeps like a log. Retrieving my clothing from the hallway and staircase, article by article, is a bit harder. I will never be able to tell the difference between two pairs of boxers.

I manage, somehow. When I get home, my instinct is to go straight to bed and squeeze another hour or so of sleep in. But the light on my answering machine is blinking, and I feel somehow obligated to listen to my message.

"Hi, it's Elijah." I inhale sharply. The recorded version of Lij's voice continues. "Dom, are you there?" A pause. "Okay. Look, I'm really sorry. I just... I'm sorry." Another pause. "Sean and I just got back. Um, I guess I'll see you tomorrow? Please don't avoid me."

The machine beeps off.

Fuck this. I'm completely knackered right now. I'll deal with this later.

As I fall into bed, a vaguely interesting thought passes through my mind.

I feel better, more relaxed. Sex with Billy was very nice indeed. But I'd trade it all away in an instant just to be sitting on Elijah's couch, leaning against him, sipping beer and watching the telly together.

*

 **4\. Beginning**

It's the first time in my life I've ever been the first person in makeup. I even beat the makeup girls.

The trailer is eerie in the half-light. I don't bother flicking on the harsh fluorescent lamps -- I like it better this way. It suits my mood. Bottles and tubes of various sizes line the counter, casting blue smudges of shadow. The mirrors almost glow, reflecting every hint of light in the trailer: the sharp glint of metal, the faint beginnings of dawn creeping through small windows, the dim shine bouncing off plastic prosthetics. Costumes are shadowy blurs, my own face is a vaguely defined outline.

It's a good place to sit and think.

But not for long. Abruptly, the trailer door swings open and the lights come on. Blinking through the sudden glare, I recognize my favorite makeup girl.

"Jesus, Dominic, are you trying to give me a bleedin' heart attack?" Natasha demands, stalking in. She's followed by three others: Bridget, Laura, and one I don't recognize.

"Yes," I tell her, grinning impishly. "Where's Maddie?" Maddie usually deals with Sean.

"Upgraded to orc fitter," Bridget drawls, dropping her handbag on the counter. "Lucky bint. Doesn't have to deal with you bloody hobbits anymore."

"She'll miss us after she has to stare at those hideous orcs all day," I retort.

"Better orcs than elves," Laura comments, getting her makeup equipment together. "Fucking ponces. I hate pretty boys."

Bridget grins. "And better elves than hobbits. No stinky feet."

"Whose feet are you calling stinky?" I demand. I kick off my shoe and wiggle my toes at her.

Natasha steps over to slap my foot. "Behave." She gestures to the new girl, who looks more than a little nervous. "This is Lydia." To Lydia, she adds, "This one plays Merry. His name's Dominic. It's a toss-up between him and Elijah for worst hobbit; they both squirm around too much by half. Avoid 'em. They're mine and Laura's bad luck to deal with. Billy usually sits there; he can keep still, but he's a shameless flirt, and he'll drive you mad."

"I resent that," I protest. "I'm just as good a flirt as Billy."

She doesn't miss a beat. "No, lately you've been too busy being openly gay." Ignoring my dropped jaw, she turns back to the new girl. "Anyway, leave Billy to Bridget. You get to work on Sean. Count your blessings. He's a doll."

Billy wanders in sleepily at this point. "Boyd, help me!" I call. "We're being woefully misrepresented!"

He blinks at me, then looks at Natasha. "I expect more from you, Tash me love," he chides. "He isn't gobsmacked enough to shut up yet."

"Give me time."

"You're supposed to be on my side!" I protest.

Billy just grins and claps me on the back. He plops down into his usual seat. "You're here early today, Monaghan."

"Couldn't sleep," I mutter. I glance at him hesitantly. "Sorry."

His eyes don't leave mine, but he addresses Natasha and Bridget (who've begun assembling their makeup around us). "Time to go deaf, loves."

"Who, us?" Bridget says. "Didn't even realize you were talking." She immediately strikes up a loud conversation with Natasha about last night's date.

"S'all right," Billy tells me quietly. "I was miffed about it for all of two minutes. Then I was grateful. Didn't particularly fancy discussing our evening with morning breath."

"Yeah," I say, relieved. "Me neither."

Bridget tugs on his head gently and starts applying gel to his hair. Natasha begins the same process with me. We sit in silence for a moment.

Billy isn't allowed to move, but his eyes seek out mine in the mirror. "It was just a one-night thing, aye?"

I swallow nervously. "I don't know, was it?"

He pauses for a second, then gives me a wry grin. "I think it's better this way."

"All right." Anxiously, I add, "We're still mates, right?"

"The best," he says with a warm smile. I feel just a bit lighter inside.

The trailer door bursts open, and Elijah and Sean scramble inside. "Are we late?" Sean demands.

"We're really, really sorry," Lij adds breathlessly. "It's my fault, I overslept, and then I didn't hear Sean banging on my door, and we got here as soon as we could--"

"You're fine," Laura laughs. "Don't worry about it. We've missed you, dears."

Watching Elijah's reflection in the mirror, I can see his face light up with his trademark grin. "Of course you have," he chirps. He heads for his area, stopping to hug Billy around the neck. "Good to see you, Bills."

"Hello, Lijah," Billy replies, beaming.

Elijah glances at me, and his enthusiasm dims a little. "Hey, Lij," I say softly, offering him a tentative smile.

"Hey, Dom," he replies in the same tone. He gives my shoulder a light squeeze as he passes, but that's all. Well, I guess I'll have to take what I can get.

Sean also gives Billy a small hug, but he goes by me without a glance. What the fuck? The one person I can't possibly have offended is now ignoring me. Lovely.

"Don't mind Sean," Billy murmurs. "He's just worried about Lijah. I think you may have set off his Mother Hen mode."

"Brilliant. How do I turn it off?"

"Just bat your pretty eyes at him and give him a good pout," Natasha says unexpectedly.

I blink up at her. "What the hell?"

She shrugs, applying my wig carefully. "It works on Elijah, doesn't it?"

"No, it's mainly Elijah's baby blues that work on Dommie," Billy quips.

"So I noticed," she says dryly. "His eyes are overrated." She pokes me. "Now you, Dominic, you have fucking gorgeous eyes."

I blink at her again with my fucking gorgeous eyes. "What the hell?" I repeat. Billy is shaking with laughter.

When he finally composes himself, he pats me on the shoulder. "There's no reason to be frightened," he says consolingly. "We're just fools in love."

Natasha and I both smack him.

He grins, then looks serious. "I don't think you should bat your eyes at Sean, though," he adds. "He'd probably kick your arse."

*

I squirm my way through hours of makeup and Feet. Sean is finished before me, but just barely. I snatch Merry's cloak off its hanger and jump out of the trailer after him.

"Oi! Sean!" I call, trying not to trip over the Feet. He's waiting for me, arms crossed, an uncharacteristically stern expression on his face.

"Dominic," he says tonelessly.

I struggle with the clasp of my cloak, hurling silent curses at it. "You've been pointedly ignoring me all morning. What've I done NOW?"

"You've got a brother, haven't you?" His voice is even, calm. His normally friendly eyes are dark and unreadable.

"Uh, yes..."

"Older or younger?"

"A few years older," I say impatiently. "Sean, why--"

He cuts me off. "Did you ever have your heart broken, as a kid?"

I think I'm starting to figure out where he's going with this. "Yeah. Once. I was about twelve. I went on one date with this girl, Jenny Wilson. Anyway, she was my first kiss. The next day she broke up with me, and told the whole school what a lousy kisser I was." My ears burn slightly at the memory.

Am I imagining it, or did Sean's expression just soften a bit? "What did your brother do?"

I grin. "Stood up for me in the schoolyard. Threatened to beat up any of the blokes who teased me about it. He even went to Jenny and told her she was bloody lucky 'cause if she weren't a girl, he'd've kicked her arse."

"Right," Sean says. "So tell me why I shouldn't kick your ass right now."

"Because you're not Elijah's big brother," I sigh. "Besides, I didn't do anything to him."

His eyes harden again. "No?"

"He shagged Orli, not me. Maybe I lost my temper, a little..."

"You really hurt him."

"He really hurt me!" I stuff my hands into my vest pockets, where they don't have room to form fists. I will not fight with Sean. I will not. "Please don't go all overprotective on me, Sean. Elijah's a big boy now. He can look out for himself."

Sean sighs. "I thought so, too, until he went and slept with Orli."

"So talk to Orli."

"Believe me, I mean to. He was a selfish prick, to move in on Lij just to spite you. But at least he was clear about what he wanted from Elijah." Sean glares at me. "You, on the other hand, were leading him on."

My fucking gorgeous eyes practically pop out of my head. "What?"

"Christ, Dom, you just kept going back to him!" he exclaims. "I lost track of the mornings when I'd pick up Lij to hear, 'Oh, Dom came over again last night,' 'Dom and Orli fought again,' 'Sean, do you think maybe Dom likes me better than Orli?'" He shakes his head. "Maybe I forget how mature Lij is because he looks so young, but I think you forget how young he is because he acts so maturely. He's barely more than a kid, Dom. You got his hopes up, then never delivered."

Maybe if I close my eyes, it'll all go away.

"Look at me, Dominic." So much for that trick. I look at him. He doesn't seem so angry anymore. Just resigned. "Couldn't you have gone to, I don't know, Billy instead? You know, someone who doesn't want to jump your bones?"

I almost burst out laughing at the irony. Almost. "I didn't know," I say.

Sean's brow furrows. "Didn't know?"

"Yeah, that Elijah..." I scratch the back of my neck, ducking my head. "Billy just told me yesterday," I explain lamely.

"Oh," Sean says, after a moment. "Oh, jesus. How could you not have known?"

"I never thought to look for it."

"Oh," he says again. He clears his throat. "Well. That changes things a little. I'm still pissed at you, mind," he adds hastily.

"Glad to hear it," I mutter. "Look, I'm sorry I 'led him on.' I'm sorry I didn't realize. I'm sorry I was Orli's boyfriend, and I'm sorry Orli and I fought." My voice is rising steadily. "I'm sorry Orli shagged Lij, I'm sorry that upset me, and I'm sorry I didn't just jump straight into Lij's arms. Damnit, Sean! What do you want me to say?"

"Nothing," Sean says softly. "Tell it to him." He points at someone behind me.

I turn, and of course Elijah is there. Brilliant. "How long have you been--"

Lij shrugs, expressionless. "Long enough," he says tonelessly. "Come on, Sean, let's--"

"Wait!" I grab Lij's arm. Sean makes good his escape. "You asked me not to avoid you, so you bloody well aren't about to start avoiding me."

He shakes off my hand, but stays. He eyes me guardedly. "So."

"So."

"I knew you didn't..." he starts, then bites his lip. "I mean, I could tell you didn't know. I didn't want you to. Sorry about Sean."

I force a smile. "Sean cares about you."

"I already have an older brother," Elijah snaps. "I don't need another one." He sighs. "I appreciate what he's trying to do, but..."

"I know." There's a long pause. Lij fidgets with his hands. "I am sorry that I blew up at you, though."

He shrugs. "I was asking for it. I still don't know what I was thinking."

"If you can't get what you want, you take what you can get," I say softly. "Even someone as thick as I am can understand that."

Lij laughs shortly. "It was your fault, you know. I was used to asking you if I could help, and all you ever wanted was a beer or something. It never occurred to me that Orli might ask for anything else."

"Yeah, well, that's Orli for you," I say, not quite bitterly. "Have you spoken to him since..."

"Not yet." He stares at his prosthetic feet. "Are you two going to, um, get back together?"

No. I don't fancy going through all that again, thanks. "Don't think so."

Elijah's voice is very small. "I don't suppose there's any chance that we..." He trails off, and looks at me. It's there, in his eyes. Oh, christ. I've seen that expression before, just never recognized it for what it was. Thanks for reminding me of what a blockhead I am, Lij.

And I push it away. "I can't," I say, swallowing hard. "I just... I'm not ready."

Looking at his face, I can practically see the door slamming shut. "Okay," he says quietly. "I'm sorry that I'm not Orli."

I want to shake my head, to grab him and say that that's not it, not what I meant, not at all. I want to tell him that I'm fucking scared, how I'd thought there was only Orli and how I'd been terrified to realize that maybe there had always been Lij, too. To explain how I'd gotten so used to defending myself, to vocally denying any feelings for Lij that I'd even convinced myself. All these little things, adding up to 'I can't.'

"Hey," I say instead. "You're Elijah. That's ten times better, isn't it?" I grin at him.

He returns the smile, transforming himself back into the friendly little imp I'd met in hobbit training. "But of course!" he says, striking a pose. "Child star and teen idol extraordinaire! Line up, girls -- and boys."

"So go pull your heartthrob shit in Emyn Muil," I say, giving him a little shove. "Some of us have to work for a living, y'know."

He sticks his tongue out at me, then hesitates. "Still friends?"

"Still friends."

He flashes me a grin, then goes off after Sean. My own smile fades as I watch him go. Friends. Well. This is what I wanted, right?

So why do I feel so fucking disappointed?

*

Orli finds me during our lunch break. "Hey," he says.

"Hey," I reply.

He stares at the ground, the air behind my left ear, my chin, anywhere but my eyes. "I talked to Doodle," he mutters. "I asked him if you two... if you ever... He was furious. He said no."

I don't feel angry, or even vindictive. "You should've believed me."

"I know. I was wrong, okay?"

"Yeah. Well. So was I, I guess. You didn't go to Lij to spite me or anything. It was just a comfort thing."

"No," he says, after a pause. "No, I was angry. I wanted revenge. I took it."

I shrug. I think about Billy, and how wonderfully avenged I'd felt when we... "Maybe it was a mixture of both."

Orli looks curiously at me, then sighs. "Truce?"

Truce. Not peace. Truce. "Truce," I agree. We shake on it.

He glances sidelong at me. "D'you suppose we could--"

"No," I say firmly. I don't want to go back. "You told Elijah it was over. It was."

"Yeah," he says, a little disappointed. "I'm sorry."

"So am I."

*

"I made up with Orli and Lij," I tell Billy as we walk out of makeup at the end of the day.

His grin shines through the growing twilight. "That's great! Isn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess."

He raises an eyebrow suggestively. "So are you and Lijah...?"

"No!" I say, too quickly. "It doesn't work out that easily," I add, more calmly. "It's too crazy and fast. I know what he wants, but I don't know if I want the same thing. I'm just not ready."

"Don't be an idiot," Billy scoffs. "Take the chance while you've still got it." He shakes his head. "Some blokes have all the luck."

I don't feel particularly lucky, and I don't respond. We reach our cars in silence.

"Well?" I say, finally.

"Well what?"

I cross my arms. "You said that when I made up with Orli and Lij, you'd tell me who you fancied."

"Oh, that," he says distantly. "I lied."

"That's not fair!"

He grins and kisses me lightly on the cheek. "G'night, Dommie." He hops into his car, waves cheerfully through the window, and drives off.

*

My house feels very empty. Peace and quiet and time to myself -- all things that I definitely don't want right now, if I ever did. I just don't function properly when I'm alone. I need someone to bounce off of.

And I really, really need to stop thinking.

We've been learning yoga as part of our physical training. Supposedly it does wonders for concentration and focus, and other shit like that. I have yet to see proof of any of this, but that doesn't necessarily mean it isn't true. Maybe it will work tonight.

I arrange myself into one of those blasted positions whose names I can never remember. Some kind of flower, probably. I can hear my trainer saying, _Concentrate on your body, Dominic. Clear your mind._ Right. Simple as that.

Except that once I think about clearing my mind, I can't. Little things keep popping into my head. Minor details, like a certain pair of impossibly blue eyes. A friendly hand on my shoulder. How it was so easy for me to say "I love you" to a mate like Lij, but never to Orli.

Fuck yoga.

Elijah is sitting on the stairs leading up to his front door, smoking a cigarette absently. I notice the little things -- the way the smoke curls out into the night when Lij exhales, his tousled hair and glassy eyes, the sound of my own feet crunching in the gravel walkway.

I sit down next to Lij quietly. He doesn't look at me, but scoots over a bit to make room. He takes another drag on his cigarette, carefully blowing the smoke away from me.

"Hey, Lij," I say softly.

Elijah drops the cigarette, stubs it out with his toe. A thin wisp of white smoke drifts upward, then vanishes. He glances at me. "Hey."

I shift a little, bumping his shoulder lightly, a careless gesture of affection. "What's wrong?"

Lij's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Well, you see, there's this guy I'm interested -- more than interested in. Problem is, he's still mooning over this other guy."

"You're sure about that?" I choose my words carefully.

He eyes me guardedly. "I was."

"Oh." I hesitate, take a deep breath, exhale. And -- "Anything I can do to help?"

He's silent for a long moment. I sag against the railing a little. Fuck. I missed it. I missed my chance, lost it, and I'll never have it again. I turned him down too many times, hurt him too much.

I look up at his face, and realize that his smile has finally reached his brilliant blue eyes.

"I think there's a football match on," Elijah says. "And I've still got a couple of beers left in the fridge. Care to join me?

"Sure," I reply, and find that I can breathe again.

He stands, offering me a hand. I clasp it, and he pulls me up with an exaggerated groan. Grinning, I follow him into the house.

We sit together on the couch in comfortable silence, barely noticing the match blaring away on the telly. Lij is warm against my shoulder, and his short, tousled hair is soft against my cheek when he leans in too close. Occasionally he glances over at me, then looks away, oddly shy.

I don't know who's going to make the next move. It doesn't matter. I smile to myself contentedly, secure in the knowledge that sooner or later, one of us will.


End file.
